


Black Velvet

by Spoodlemonkey



Category: NCIS: New Orleans
Genre: Aftercare, Barebacking, Boys in Skirts, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Inspired by episode, M/M, PWP, Panties, Praise Kink, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 14:44:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10165277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey
Summary: King finds out about the time Chris wore a skirt for an ex.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miniatures](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miniatures/gifts).



> Thank you so much to Miniatures who checked this over and made sure it didn't suck too badly (I now give you porn!)...Inspired by the season one comment where Chris tells Brody that for an ex girlfriend he wore a skirt. I've had this prompt in my head for ages. Also inspired by my head cannon that King would totally Dom the hell out of Chris in a loving, praise kink kind of way. (That boy's got it bad for him) Feel free to let me know what you think!

“I heard an interesting little story about you.” King's smile is full of mischief as he gazes over at Christopher. 

“Oh yeah?” He tears a piece of cinnamon bun off, licking the sticky sugar off his fingers and watching the way King’s eyes go darker with it. “From who?”

He figures he can guess what the story is based on who told it. An old buddy they'd crossed paths with? Someone from NOPD?

“Brody.”

He has a feeling he knows exactly what story that is.

He pushes the cinnamon bun away, suddenly not feeling very hungry. The back of his neck is warm and he's so goddamn pale it's probably blazing red for all to see-- all being him and King after hours in the kitchen. He clears his throat. Best to get it over with.

“And what story might that be?” 

King settles back in his chair. Doesn't answer right away, enjoying the moment as it’s drawn out between them. Chris shifts a little, King's gaze heavy on him. There's something there, something charged. It's enough that he's not totally surprised when King picks up the bag he'd come in with, the shopping bag Chris hadn't had a second thought about, and slides it across the table. It's a discreet, plain bag from some store he thinks Laurel or Brody would shop at. It sits in the middle of the table just waiting for Chris to take it. 

“Said something about what you did for an old ex-girlfriend.” King drawls, sitting back again. He doesn't move to push the bag further, doesn't press. Chris knows he won’t. “Something I'd be interested in seeing myself, Christopher.”

He bites his lip, blood rushing in his ears and he cannot seem to tear his gaze away from the shopping bag sitting innocently before him. He thinks he should consider that this might be an elaborate joke; King's going to tease him and they'll laugh and maybe head upstairs to bed. But he knows, without a shadow of a doubt that this is real. Just as he knows King would never force him if he didn't want to. 

The trouble is he wants to.

He manages to tear his gaze away, glances up at King. He swallows hard. King's aiming for relaxed but it comes across as predatory, the way a lion is in the hot sunshine, its meal coming closer and closer, unaware of the dangers in the tall grass. 

Chris takes the bag. 

The paper bunches in his fist and he unclenches his hand, takes the handle, like it's something delicate. 

 “Go on upstairs,” King says with a small smile. He pushes to his feet. “I'll clean up here and join you.”

He runs a hand down Chris' back as he passes him and the light touch is enough to nearly undo him. He's jittery, falling apart from nerves and need and urgency, ready to have King put him back together again. He's glad everyone's gone for the night, embarrassment still coils hotly through his chest at the thought of what they're doing; to have anyone else here to witness it would be too much. It never felt like this the first time; it had been fun, a game, and they'd both gotten off. This, this feels like more.

He shuts the door behind him, at a loss for a moment as he stands in King's apartment. But then he remembers the heat in his eyes, in his touch, and hurries to the bed, stripping off his Henley as he goes. He reaches into the bag, gently pulling out the soft fabric found within. It's more than just a skirt, he realizes with a jolt. A small scrap of fabric falls from the bundle he's pulled out and he picks it up, unprepared for the lust that shoots through him at the sight of the pale pink lace panties. 

King is going to be the death of him.

The skirt is soft black velvet. He shucks his jeans, boxers, and socks and hesitantly pulls on the panties. They feel so delicate like he could tear them to pieces with a touch. Somehow he fits, even with his cock hard already, and he pulls up the skirt next. It falls to mid-thigh, flaring out, and he flushes at the sight of his cock tenting the front. The final piece is a snug black V-neck he pulls over his head, admiring the way it clings to his abs and biceps, how it's stretched tight across his shoulders. 

He takes a peek in the mirror, feeling silly, feeling embarrassed, but also feeling right somehow. 

“You look beautiful.”

He nearly jumps out of his skin at King's voice behind him. He hadn't heard the door open but King's there now, watching him with want written across his face. Chris clears his throat and tries to regain his bearings. He cocks a hip, striking a pose. 

“You like it then?”

King nods, crossing to him and it's hard to keep the cockiness with the older man standing less than a foot away. 

“Panties were an interesting touch.” He jokes. His face is burning, the blush staining its way all the way down to his chest. He's an odd mixture of too pale skin and flushed red and black clothing. 

“You wore them?” King asks, like Chris would do anything half way. He reaches out, fits his hand to the line of Chris' jaw, down to his throat, and tilts his chin up so he's forced to meet King's eyes as though he wasn't already. Chris swallows, knows King can feel the pounding of his pulse where his hand is wrapped around his throat. It's the only place they're touching but Chris feels like much more and he could fall to pieces from it. King only says, “Get on the bed.”

He squeezes, once, before letting go. Chris scrambles to obey. He crawls onto the bed, on his knees facing King at his nod. He settles into the position easily. His trust in King is all encompassing, it never falters. 

“Such a good boy.” King murmurs and Chris shivers at it. King steps closer, to the edge of the bed and reaches for him. Chris sways into it, moans when King's thumb settles on his lower lip, tugging lightly. He licks his lips, unthinking, and brushes King's thumb. The older man chuckles and slides his index finger into Chris' mouth, holds his tongue down for a moment. He slides a second finger in and lets Chris suck on them, needy, desperate in a way that makes his skin feel like it's aflame. He laves at the fingers, wish there was more, and happy he gets this at least. He lets out a broken moan when King pulls his fingers back, but his spit slick hand curls to the shape of Chris' skull and holds him steady as something bigger, hotter bumps against his lips. 

“That's it,” King breathes, sliding the head of his hard cock past Chris' lips, letting him get the briefest of tastes before he pulls out again, teasing him, rocking shallowly so it’s coating Chris' lips in pre come more than letting him have what he wants. And oh, he wants. 

“You be good for me now and I'll let you ride me after.” King promises and Chris tries to nod desperately but he's held in place as King slides his cock in properly finally. 

He loses himself in the steady motion of King's hips, in the way he rocks slowly into Chris' mouth, the heavy weight of him on his tongue and the smell of musk. His eyes fall close and he reaches up, stroking King's hips as though to urge him on. It works, King pushes deeper, fills Chris' throat and holds there for a long moment. Chris can't breathe, can't think past the heavy weight filling his mouth, the obscene stretch of his lips, the smell and taste of King. He sinks into the sensations, lost to anything but King. 

King pulls back when his lungs feel like they're bursting but he feels loose and burning at the same time, like he could last forever and not at all. 

“You look so good,” King pulls him back, rubs the head of his cock against his lower lip. He flicks his tongue out, desperate for the taste. King moans. “So good with your mouth on my cock Christopher, but I know you'll look just as good sitting in my lap.”

He groans in agreement, desperate for that, for King's cock again, for anything to fill him up. He's having trouble with words, now that his mouth is free as King steps back to strip, but it doesn't matter, not really. King's got him, he won't let anything happen.     

King crawls onto the bed and pulls him against him and into a messy kiss. It's hot and hard, King taking and Chris giving freely. King runs a hand up his bare thigh, pushing the hem of the skirt up, showing off the pink panties and the way Chris' cock strains obscenely against them. He pulls back from the kiss; helps Chris pull the shirt off. They come back together, chests pressed together, skin on skin finally. Chris groans; flicks a hand over King's nipples, loving how the older man shudders at the touch. His hand drifts down, as King sucks on his tongue, fucks his mouth, palming King's cock, feeling how hard it is beneath the smooth, velvety skin. 

“I'm gonna come if you keep that up.” King breaks the kiss to huff out a laugh. It turns into a groan when Chris swipes his thumb over the head of his cock. 

He goes willingly when King shifts them a little, sits up to pull Chris into his lap properly. He can feel the hard heat of Kings cock resting against his ass. The panties are in the way, the skirt covering King when he starts to rock lightly, rubbing his cock against Chris. 

“You wanna keep the panties on?” King asks, hands rubbing up and down Chris' thighs. He thinks it’s meant to be soothing but all it does is remind him how close King's hands are to where he wants them. He thinks about it, thinks about bouncing on Kings cock, panties pulled to the side. It's more than tempting but he doesn't want anything in the way. 

Chris shakes his head and King smirks like he knows what he's thinking.

“Next time,” King leans closer, whispers, hot breath against his ear. “I'm just going to pull those panties to the side and eat you out till you're begging for me.”

He nips at Chris' ear, and Chris has to close his eyes and just breathe at the images it puts in his head.

   
King helps him shift off his lap quickly to get out of the panties. He whines at the feel of them sliding over his leaking cock, the only touch he's allowed. King grabs the bottle of lube from the bedside table and guides him back into place with a grin. He pops the cap and takes Chris' hand, coating his fingers with the cool, wet lube.

“Wanna see you fuck yourself for me sweetheart.” He murmurs. “Show me how you do it when I'm not here.”

There's not much to see, with the skirt in the way but he does what King says anyways. He gets lube on the edge of the skirt, wincing as he brushes the fabric, but then it’s pushed out of the way and there's nothing stopping him. He circles his tightly furled hole with one wet finger, sighing into the feeling. His wrist bumps King's cock and he groans, sliding the first finger in easily. It's not enough and he's quickly adding a second, using the slight burn to focus, to try and think past the lust burning in his veins. 

 “So beautiful,” King seems to sense this and starts talking, drawing him back in. “You're so hard for me aren't you Christopher? So desperate for me to fuck you; to make you come.”

Chris draws in a stuttering breath, eyes wide as he meets King's. King grabs the lube and drizzles some onto his own hand, without breaking eye contact. Then he's reaching back, probing gently where Chris has two of his own fingers buried knuckle deep in his body. 

“Shit,” he hisses as King presses in. The burn is still there, but it fades quickly. He feels fuller, hotter, as he rolls his hips, jerks his fingers, trying to find a rhythm with King. King bumps his prostate, rubs against it ruthlessly, and he shouts, back arched as he tries not to come. 

“Are you ready for me Christopher?’ King rubs again, kisses the base of his neck, his fluttering pulse, the hinge of his jaw. Chris nods, mouth hanging open as he tries to catch a breath. “You need to tell me.”        

“Yes,” he bites out, moaning as King pulls both of their hands free quickly at that. The lube is opened again as King slicks up his cock. 

And then Chris is lifting himself up, as King lines up his cock with his ass. He sinks down slowly, a gasp escaping him as the head of King’s cock pops in, another when he's fully seated. He feels so full. King is hard and huge and hot inside of him and he just stays there a moment, trying to remember how to breathe. 

“That's it,” King soothes. He runs his large palms up and down Chris' thighs. “Take all the time you need.”

He's grateful for it, but he doesn't want to take time. He rests his hands on King's chest, feels as the older man plants his feet, knees bent behind him. He slowly lifts himself up, dropping back down, probably harder than he should at first. But he keeps going, gets lost in the drag of Kings cock as he stretches him out, fucks him full. He works up a rhythm. Leans back when it's too much, grips Kings thighs behind him and arches his back as he fucks himself on Kings cock. King matches him thrust for thrust, hips pumping up, grinding deep when he can. 

“That's it,” King says, kisses any part of Chris he can reach, bites his way across Chris' chest, little nips and sucking bruises, marking him. “So good; you’re so good for me sweetheart.”

His thighs are burning, chest tight. His cock feels like it’s going to burst, balls drawn tight against his body. He's so close he can taste it. But it’s not enough, he can't get enough as the head of King's cock drags over his prostate. 

“I've got you, I've got you.” King murmurs, drags the skirt up, pushes the fabric out of the way so he can fist Chris' cock, grip tight and slick with pre come and perfect. Chris doesn't last much longer. King strokes a few times and he's gone, shooting come all over the black skirt and himself. His hips stutter, unable to keep up. King pulls him close and grinds up into his ass, bumps their noses together, catching his lips and sucking on his tongue in a truly filthy way.

Chris is limp in his arms as he comes, filling him up, fucking as deep as he can as he breaks the kiss to gasp for air. 

He winces when King pulls out eventually, as the come between their stomachs starts to cool uncomfortably. King hushes him when he tries to get up, rolling him gently onto his side. He crawls out of bed, and disappears for a moment, only to return with a warm washcloth. He helps Chris out of the skirt, wipes their stomachs down and then eases Chris onto his back, spreads his legs and dips between his ass cheeks, cleaning him carefully there. Chris lets out a low whine at the feeling, too much at the moment. King tosses the washcloth on the floor to be dealt with later and crawls back onto the bed. 

Chris, half awake, is startled to feel the real world sinking in. Embarrassment threatens to chase away a truly spectacular orgasm and his skin itches, like it's suddenly too small for him. He feels awkward, unsure, and doesn't know why.

“Come here.” King pulls him close, chest to chest as they wrap their arms and legs around each other until it's like they're one entity. 

“You did so well.” He runs a hand gently up and down Chris' back, a soothing, grounding touch. Chris relaxes into it easily.

“Thanks,” he clears his throat, surprised at how wrecked his voice sounds. 

King presses a kiss to his temple. “Let me know if you ever want to do it again.”

Chris flushes at the thought, a hesitant lopsided grin making its way across his face.

“Yeah,” he unabashedly snuggles closer to the older man. “Maybe some time.”         


End file.
